Mr Bennet had not been born heir to Longbourn. That honour had fallen to him when his older brother, while still a very young man, died in some skirmish on American soil. Like many other second-born sons too young for conscription, Thomas Bennet had studied for the church. His heartbroken father had required his return home to manage his affairs, and the young heir had at length secured a wife.
The father had not long outlived the older brother. Thus, Thomas Bennet had ultimately inherited Longbourn at such a young age that he had spent little time in the service of his fellow man. Still, his counselling instincts had been honed, if forgotten these many years. “If you do not mind me saying, sir,” he ventured cautiously, “your horse could use a breather, and I might add that you look wrung out yourself. Come, keep an old man company for a bit.”
Darcy hesitated to reply. He had only ever spoken just enough for propriety to the man and had actively tried to avoid spending unnecessary time among the Bennet family. They were all wildly improper at times. Aside from the two eldest sisters, Mr Bennet was certainly the most respectable of the lot, but Darcy had steered clear of him as well. It had quickly become apparent to him that the enchanting Elizabeth Bennet shared her father’s capricious humour. He was uncertain about the wisdom of spending much time around the father of the woman he was trying desperately to forget. The older gentleman had been correct, though—his horse needed a break badly, and he could not politely excuse himself.
He turned to match his mount’s strides to Mr Bennet’s bay. His practised eye touched briefly over the horse, correctly guessing the former hunter’s history and the reason for his current reduced circumstances. It was all too common a history, and the wonder was that this particular horse had escaped serious injury well enough to remain useful.
Again, he felt remorse for the punishment of his own favourite mount. Pluto was the pride of Pemberley’s breeding operation, the result of four generations of patient planning and the hope of the future. Already his foals were showing tremendous promise. To have so carelessly endangered his soundness this morning for the sake of a bad night’s sleep was inexcusable.
The two men spoke uncomfortably of the unseasonably fine break in the otherwise wintery weather. Darcy made an offhanded observation regarding the slickness of the path—which, though damp with a heavy rain a few days before, was still hard with frost beneath—a treacherous combination. Such talk of the elements led naturally to the plenitude of fowl and successful shooting season the younger man had had. Finally, they hit upon the topics of crop rotation and land management.
Darcy found that his usually flippant companion had a great deal of insight into the subjects. Save for his uncle. Darcy had seldom had the opportunity to speak with a more experienced landlord. Owing to his status in society, he more frequently found himself advising others, such as Bingley, when his own lack of experience occasionally worried him. Although Mr Bennet’s holdings were by no means on a par with Pemberley, he was surprisingly knowledgeable and, Darcy sensed, an equitable and compassionate landlord to his tenants.
They passed nearly a half-hour in this way, slowly walking the narrow lane together. Darcy would ask pointed questions, which to a casual observer would not appear to be those of a student to a master. Mr Bennet was not fooled, but he tactfully refrained from teasing his younger counterpart. He even found several frank questions he could ask in reply, which would cause his companion to consider slowly, then expound upon his opinions. Darcy expressed himself well, with earnest intelligence and pragmatic respect. Mr Bennet found it difficult to reconcile this very agreeable fellow with the recalcitrant wallflower he had known previously.
Mr Bennet began to sense that Mr Darcy’s arrogant pride was, in a small way at least, a cover-up for his own innate shyness and discomfort. Some part of his own jocular being wished to be of some material good to the younger man. He had never had a son. It was Elizabeth who had gained most of the fatherly attention which would have been due his heir. She knew more about running an estate than most young ladies, as he had found her quick mind to be the perfect sounding board for his management plans about the property. He now discovered in this young man, whose wealth dwarfed his own, an apt and willing pupil.
They crested a small knoll, and as the hillside fell away, it revealed a breath-taking view beyond the small rocks. The rising sun had fully crested the distant horizon, spreading pink hues through the remaining grey of pre-dawn. Drawing their mounts up, Darcy allowed that the vantage point was, indeed, a remarkable sight. Glancing down, he saw that his horse was almost fully cooled. He patted the stallion’s crested neck affectionately.
“Yes, this used to be a favourite spot of mine, but I have not visited in years. It is called Oakham Mount. Elizabeth, I believe, walks here regularly.” He watched Darcy stiffen out of the corner of his eye.
The curious father had wondered what had caused Darcy to single out Elizabeth last night for a dance. The man could hardly have escaped dancing with his eager hostess, but the Master of Pemberley had quickly developed a reputation in the region for avoiding dancing and women altogether, whenever possible. Either his favourite daughter had caught Darcy’s eye, or the man had simply wished to oblige his friendly host by appearing once again on the floor. Perhaps he was the sort of man who enjoyed a little verbal sparring with his partner during an otherwise tedious half-hour, and for that, Mr Bennet could not have faulted him. Whichever was the case, the father in Mr Bennet had watched the scene with interest and observed that neither partner had left the floor satisfied nor in good humour.
Darcy pressed his lips together and sought to make a diplomatic reply. “Miss Elizabeth seems to enjoy walking a great deal,” he supplied neutrally, then lapsed into stony silence. He continued smoothing his horse’s ruffled mane without looking back up.
Mr Bennet eyed him carefully. Most, including himself until this moment, assumed Darcy never looked at a woman but to disapprove of her. With a sly glance at his companion, Mr Bennet decided that, perhaps, Darcy did not quite disapprove ofeverywoman. Of all the women in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth was probably the most unlike the reserved gentleman in demeanour. In most cases, it would be easy to assume that the dissimilarity in their temperaments would dispel any attraction. Darcy, however, would not be the first taciturn man of Mr Bennet’s acquaintance to find himself fascinated by a spirited woman.
Mr Bennet continued to regard Mr Darcy’s granite expression from the corner of his eye.A man who felt nothing would not have to work so hard to affect a casual air!he chuckled to himself.Why, the fellow practically turned green.If his guess was correct, Darcy did admire his daughter to a certain degree, but a man of his status could surely never form any serious design on her.
He considered Darcy’s sudden stoicism for another moment and decided that Elizabeth’s loudly proclaimed dislike of the man would prevent any harm. He certainly did not see in Darcy the rash, foolish mind of a love-struck rake. No, young as he was, Darcy was bound by responsibility and duty. He seemed an honourable enough man as well, despite Elizabeth’s report of some wrong done to that Wickham fellow. He was certain that, even if the young Master of Pemberley were intrigued by Elizabeth as he suspected, Darcy would not dally with his dearest girl. Much good it would have done him to try! The swine in his stockyard would sprout wings before Elizabeth would tolerate the attentions of such a man.
He cleared his throat, hoping to bring to light the younger man’s intentions. “If I may, Mr Darcy, how long do you propose to remain at Netherfield? I should have thought the duties of your estate and the allure of Town would have called you away to more interesting events by now.”
Darcy looked up quickly. Did he detect a note of warning behind the friendly tone? He could not tell if Mr Bennet had purposely dropped Elizabeth’s name earlier, waiting for a reaction. It seemed improbable; likelier indeed was the possibility that his guilty thoughts stimulated his imagination in that regard... but if the father were anything like the daughter, anything was possible. Knowing her puckish humour as he did, he did not want to give her father any morsels of insight into his private thoughts. He hoped he had maintained adequate control of his expression and that Mr Bennet had perceived nothing.
“I return today, sir,” he replied, trying to keep the stiffness out of his voice. Whoever this man’s daughter was, he had enjoyed the past half-hour more than he could have expected. He did not wish to take offence with the one agreeable companion he had met in the region. “Mr Bingley returns with me to attend some matters with his solicitor. I expect we may be in London some duration.”
Mr Bennet quirked an eyebrow. “If that be the case, sir, I suggest you give your good horse a few hours of rest before setting out! I presume you do not intend to leave him here, nor plan to return for him. Though, I daresay, there will be bitter disappointment in my home this morning at your party’s departure.”
Darcy clamped his lips into a thin line. The exquisite torment of being near Elizabeth Bennet and unable to call her his own was beyond what he could bear any longer. In four years at Cambridge and five seasons in London as a highly eligible bachelor, he had never encountered a single woman of her calibre. She was of a class apart, somehow so far above them in quality that she had squelched the hope of ever finding a love match in anyone else.
Perhaps it was the very fact that she did not seem to care for his good opinion that intrigued him. She had his admiration. He was certain she knew it, and yet she played cat and mouse with him. Rather than overtly trying to impress him or fawn over him as others did, she baited and teased. She cleverly jousted with him, causing him to rethink some of his opinions with her delightful intellect. Thrilling, provocative woman! He could see himself happily spending the rest of his days puzzling her out.
Exhilarating as she was, he knew he could not offer for her. It was unthinkable! The shame of a connection to her family was too much. Though an indolent parent, the father seemed respectable enough, as did the eldest sister, but the rest of the family were utterly ridiculous! It was more than that, though. Her station was decidedly beneath his notice! His circles in London may never actually meet the outrageous family, but the meanness of the lady’s upbringing would be apparent. She had not been brought up to his level of society and could not hope to be found acceptable… could she?
Though he conceded it as likely that Elizabeth Bennet would shine in whatever circumstances she found herself, she would meet with ridicule and he with scorn among those of theton. No, it was impossible. His early morning ride had been about ridding his mind and heart of her once and for all. If he wrung himself out completely, perhaps he would be able to endure the long carriage ride which would take him away from her forever.
Resolutely, he picked up the reins, turning from the glowing sunrise, a promise of hope, back to the sombre grey which yet lingered over Netherfield—over everything his life represented. “You are perfectly right, sir. I should return to complete my preparations. Thank you for your company; it has been most agreeable. Good day, sir.”
“Good day, Mr Darcy, and Godspeed on your journey,” Mr Bennet smiled warmly. He received a most civil salute in reply, and Darcy galloped off.
Mr Bennet chuckled to himself. Darcy had altered quite rapidly from the interested fellow landowner back to the rigid proud gentleman he had first known when he had brought up Elizabeth’s name. Much as he had enjoyed his morning chat with the younger man, he could not rid himself of the delight he found in amusing himself at another’s expense. It seemed to him highly possible that his lively daughterhadpiqued the austere man’s interest, much to the other’s chagrin.Well, what else do we live for, but to make sport of our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?
He studied the rosy skyline a few moments more, then decided to return home himself. Darcy’s early morning vigour reminded him of the heady days of his own youth. How he had once loved a brisk morning gallop! Decisively, he wheeled his once well-schooled mount and dashed toward home at a spanking canter. The gelding responded smoothly, seemingly enjoying the speed as much as his rider.
Only five minutes from his home, a grouse started from the brush by the path. Mr Bennet would not normally have been unseated by his horse’s shy, but the gelding’s old weakness, combined with a slick part of the path, proved too much. The horse stumbled hard, his hind legs slipping out from under him as his forelegs paddled for solid purchase. Mr Bennet’s last coherent thought was to desperately grab for his horse’s mane before terrifying weightlessness claimed him. An instant later, all was blackness.
Chapter 2
